


The Shadow And The Girl

by tarotortwindrill



Category: Drawn to Life (Video Game)
Genre: Brainwashing, Childhood Friends, Corruption, F/M, Falling In Love, Mind Manipulation, Origin Story, Pre-Canon, Tags May Change
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-11-19
Updated: 2020-11-20
Packaged: 2021-03-09 23:07:55
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 5
Words: 4,853
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27633866
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/tarotortwindrill/pseuds/tarotortwindrill
Summary: Once upon a time, there were two childhood friends. Alas, one fell to the dark...but not before taking her with him.
Relationships: Wilfre/Circi
Kudos: 1





	1. Prologue: A Regular Summer's Eve

Once upon a time, there were two Raposa. They were a boy and girl, no more than 7 years old. They would agree a story starting with “once upon a time” would be too fantastical and cliche, but they wouldn’t really mind. Fantastical was their thing, after all. They were as childish and friendly as childhood friends could be, always playing by themselves, no matter the audience. The rest of their village was the audience; and they were the performers. But not literally—regardless, while they may not have been actors, they sure played their part.

One day, the girl wanted to play with the boy, like they always would. Now, this day wasn’t like any other day. This day was a summer’s eve: the day when the schoolhouse would finally close for the days to come, and when the two could finally play for as long as they wanted! It was simply that; a regular Summer’s Eve, where nothing could go wrong.

“Wilfre! Wilfre, where are you?” the girl called out, her black dress fluttering in the soft wind. She was the more outgoing one of the two, despite both being considered sociable. The truth was, as much as they both liked to be childish and friendly, the boy was much more subdued than his partner. When he wasn’t spending time with her, he spent most of his days toiling at his books, making sure there was no word or sentence or page left behind. He was a reader—an advanced one for his age.

“Huh? Wilfre?” she called out again. She was nearing the forest. Her father told her never to go into the forest, else her fate could be added to the long list of tall tales told in the books. Books her friend would probably get to read. Would he miss her?  _ Of course he would,  _ she thought,  _ he’s my bestest best friend! _ And she knew she’d find him eventually. She always—

“Circi—!?”

Oh. She bumped into him. But at least she managed to find him, so she didn’t need to cry. She just needed to smile! And then he would smile, and then once they were both smiling they could play for as long as they wanted! Even if he was reading a book, perhaps he was just about to finish it, and then they could play! She loved it when he was ready to play. It was time better spent than waiting for him to finish a book anyhow.

“Wilfre! Are you ready to play with me now? You know we don’t have boring assignments to do anymore, right?”

He didn’t seem to react. He just looked up from his book as he prepared to close it, without a single word said. This didn’t make her worried—instead, she became curious. What was it that made him silent? Was it because she bumped into him. If so, she was ready to apologize—but she wouldn’t show her worry. Then, finally, he spoke.

“You almost made me drop my book.”

...Granted, that was to be expected. He didn’t like it when people interrupted him when he read, let alone made him potentially lose his progress and have to start all over. Sometimes she felt that way as well, though she always tried not to let it get to her. Inside and out, she was a carefree, happy child who cherished her closest friends. And she knew deep down, he was like that too.

“I know...but you didn’t! So it’s okay! And...you still want to play with me, right?” she asked, briefly glancing at the book he was holding. The cover was a grayish brown, and she couldn’t read the writing on it. She knew he was smarter than her anyway. Maybe he could tell her. And finally, after what seemed to be an hour of tension...

“Sure.”

...he finally played along. It was nothing out of the ordinary. Everything turned out okay, and now they could play together, just like always. After all, nothing could go wrong on a regular summer’s eve.


	2. Chapter 1: A Vivid Limerence

Years passed. A lot of years, in fact. They weren’t the playful, childish kids they once were. They were older and wiser...well, somewhat wiser. In reality, he was the only one that became relatively wise, while she remained her old, idealistic self. That may have sounded a bit harsh, but she didn’t mind it one bit. As long as she could make her best friend smile, that was all she needed to be satisfied. And satisfied she would be...

...Because, today was her 18th birthday! Her father wasn’t there, but her best friend was, so she didn’t mind! Her father told her she wouldn’t get as many presents as she usually would get because she was an adult now, and adults didn’t have to recieve gifts because they could buy them themselves, but she didn’t mind! He also told her she could have any cake she wanted, and she said she wanted a tiramisu instead, and her father was confused, but he gave her one anyway...so she didn’t mind! She didn’t mind a lot of the things that happened to her. That was fine!

“This tiramisu tastes velvety.” her friend murmured, one hand holding the fork (which in turn was carrying a piece of fresh, bitten tiramisu), the other firmly grasping the book which she first laid her eyes upon all those years ago on that faint summer’s eve.  _ He sure likes that book,  _ she thought,  _ almost as much as he loves that pastry! _

“So?” she asked eagerly, ready to take another bite of the pastry. “Do you like it here?” Once the bite was taken, she took her time to twiddle her times as she chewed, admiring the soft flavors as she awaited his response. As long as he didn’t say something mean about whatever he thought about, everything would turn out fine and completely ordinary!

“...It is preferable to conditions elsewhere, that’s for sure.”

Huh? He didn’t say he hated it, but...she didn’t expect  _ that. _ Out of all the things she expected from someone like him...no, no. This wasn’t a problem. It may have not been ordinary, but...it was her birthday. She needed to make this work...for her very best friend, she’d make it work.

“Circi, did I startle you?”

Silence. For once, she didn’t know what to say. At least he knew...right? He was still her friend. And...he always would be, right?

“My apologies. I just assumed we were close enough for me to mention that.”

“Is...is everything okay, Wilfre?”

He didn’t say a word. Instead, he put the fork down and opened his book, writing something into its pages. A part of her wanted to peer into his writing, but she did her best to refuse that call. What if it was something  _ super  _ personal, and if she knew about it he’d get mad, and then they wouldn’t be bestest friends anymore! But...he thought he was close enough to her to mention that, so...but for her own sake, maybe it was best to stay put.

_ “Hmph, why can’t I…”  _ he muttered, just quiet enough so she couldn’t hear him. She stared at the tiramisu. It was getting cold, and a good chunk of it was still left uneaten. This disappointed her. Tiramisu was best when it was fresh, after all. She thought about putting it away into the kitchen, but then he might notice that she had left his line of sight. Just because he could be distant doesn’t mean he wasn’t clever! And even if she didn’t know what he was saying...would it really be worth it to hear everything he could say?

_ It would. Don’t worry, Wilfre. I won’t tell anyone else. _

_ I won’t. _

“What are you doing?”

Both of them could feel the light above them flickering ever so slightly. There was tension. Just as there was tension years ago, that same feeling of uneasiness would remain. It wasn’t meant to be like this. Weren’t they supposed to be amicable with each other? And instead of a feeling of caution and tension, there’d be satisfaction and happiness. She liked it when he was happy. And...well...this was her 18th birthday! She could finally do the things adults could do...so why did she slowly stop feeling satisfied?

“Why do you need to know?”

Instinctively, she put a hand to her mouth as she could feel her face turning red. She didn’t know what else to think. There was just... _ something  _ about him that made everything swirl, turning common sense into nonsense, seeing into believing, making the ordinary... _ extra _ ordinary _.  _ She could feel multicolored, prismatic butterflies (or dragonflies...perhaps moths?) in her stomach, begging to break free. The flickering light seemed rhythmatic with her uneasiness, becoming a predictable pattern—ironic, considering how she could never predict  _ him.  _ Anxiously, she lowered her hand, bracing herself for the response that could make or break everything:

“...I just assumed we were close enough.”

That response seemed to break him. He looked down at his book, and then up at her, and then at the book, and then up at her yet again. The pen seemed to tremble in his hands, his ears slightly twitching. Then, mustering up the grace, he put down his book, then stood up, continuing his eye contact with her line of vision. She didn’t expect this from someone like him...or maybe she did. Did she even care at the point? By now, she awaited his response, as heartbreaking as it could be. At this point, it didn’t matter: everything was far from ordinary at this point.

At last, he spoke.

“We are.”

And then she knew what exactly was extraordinary—him. And she knew what that meant: it was love at not-so-first sight.

Maybe being extraordinary wasn’t so strange after all.


	3. Chapter 2: A Faint Shadow, Growing Near

_ Love.  _ What a strange feeling! She was so used to just being super close friends with him that falling in love had barely been a possibility. Romance and friendship were basically two different things, right? You don’t just smooch your lover like it’s nothing! But...it was the logical next step, right? She couldn’t tell for sure, since, admittedly, she didn’t know much about love. She knew of childhood crushes and playground teases...but those were different, weren’t they?

More importantly, she had to know about whatever he mentioned. Something about things being better than elsewhere. What was “elsewhere”? And if they were so close, why was he being vague about the whole thing? Best friends let their secrets be known to each other, right? He was quiet, sure, but he wouldn’t hide things from her! It’s not like whatever he’s hiding could lead to a butterfly effect that could potentially destroy them both...it couldn’t be.  _ She had to know. _

She found him in the shade, continuing to write and draw in his book. He seemed determined, yet also nervous. Whatever could he be nervous about? Was it because of the “elsewhere”? Why would he draw and/or write about it if he was so bothered about it? That’s why she  _ had  _ to know! It couldn’t be just because he could! She would get to the bottom of it...and  _ perhaps _ it was boosted by the recent feelings of infatuation she felt for him, but that didn’t matter.

“Wilfre, what are you doing?” she asked, looking over to where he was writing. It took him a few seconds before he noticed her voice, which made her even more concerned. What  _ was  _ it with that book? Was it cursed, which meant this was an even bigger problem than she thought?  _ I have to know,  _ she repeated in her mind over and over, to the point where she considered the possibility of speaking those very words out loud, her thoughts becoming reality. Luckily, he managed to answer soon after he heard her... _ soon enough, _ she reckoned. 

“I’m working on something, Circi.”

His tone was...off. It was still the quiet, soft spoken voice she knew well; but there was something about it that sent a slight chill down her spine. It felt...distant, like he hadn’t talked to someone in a decade. Obviously, he didn’t  _ really _ talk to anybody in a decade, but…

“Why are you staring at me like that?”

A judgmental tone. Was he mad at her? No...he couldn’t be. It wouldn’t hurt for her to try to figure out what’s wrong, right? Of course he would understand! And if he didn’t...well, at least one of her suspicions would be right.

“Well...what are you working on?”

As a response, he only stared deeper at the page, the pen on the edge of touching the fine paper. From what she could see, it seemed to look like...a very detailed scribble. Was this what he meant when he mentioned the “elsewhere”? If so—it sure looked underwhelming. She pouted her lips, making sure she wasn’t seeing double. This couldn’t have been what’s keeping him up all night. She  _ had _ to know this...for his sake.

“This is important, Circi.” was he the only thing he could muster, before returning to draw in his book yet again. Her concern mixed itself into frustration, which only resulted in even  _ more  _ concern. In that moment, she had wondered what her main motivation for this  _ was _ : was it love? Or something even greater? But nothing could be greater than love...right? Strangely, the more she thought about that, the less she noticed the seemingly inanimate scribble... _ changing. _

“Wait!  _ No, no…! _ ”

Did he break yet again?

“Wilfre, what’s wrong?”

This only seemed to upset him even more. He frantically scribbled on the drawing, trying to fix it, trying to make it right—to no avail. Eventually, when he realized it was a lost cause, he slammed the book shut, desperately trying to make sense of what just happened. It was only a minute before he put the book down where she couldn’t see, before turning away, his despair hidden.

“This always happens.” he muttered, tensing everytime he even so much as stared at that strange tome. “Everytime I try to draw  _ something _ on those pages, it always becomes a monster in the end.” She could do nothing but watch, unsure of how to make him feel better. She could deal with ordinary problems and the like, but...she knew by now he was far from ordinary. Not in the slightest.

“I’m sorry—”

“Don’t apologize.” Those words sent an even greater chill down her body. “This isn’t your fault.” She glanced at his shadow, only noticing that it seemed to appear darker in the shade. Not only that, but she felt a great discomfort for even slightly witnessing it. Yet at the same time, she couldn’t bear to look away from her own best friend, someone who probably needed her help, even if his pleas were subtle. She knew he needed her help. And she wasn’t one to shy away from helping others.

“I know, Wilfre. That’s why I want to help you.”

The shadow grew lighter, to the point of turning faint. He finally turned to look at her as well, his eyes showing a faint glimmer of...well, she hoped it was what she was thinking of. She couldn’t believe it! Was he finally accepting her offer of help? If so, they could start by throwing away that weird book! And once they did, he could stop worrying about those scribbles and whatever was going on “elsewhere”, and she could turn her simple feelings of infatuation into complex feelings of love, and then they’d live happily ever after! She knew fairy tales weren’t real, but that didn’t mean they couldn’t come true...right?

“You’ll...help me?”

She nodded, that same feeling of hope brimming in her eyes as those butterflies from earlier threatened to cram themselves into her stomach yet again—but this time, she didn’t even care. As long as she could help him and make sure he didn’t become anything close to the monster with the pitch-black shadow—whatever that meant—his response was all she needed.

“Thank you.”


	4. Chapter 3: A Pitch Black Dream

One night, she had a strange dream. It wasn’t about a magical adventure. It wasn’t about a world at stake. It wasn’t about a metaphysical reality.

It was about him.

The time was early morning. At first, she thought she managed to wake up early. That was quite a feat for someone like her. If only he was there to wake her up every day. She’d like that. But she immediately noticed that she wasn’t on her bed...or that she wasn’t even in her house. She was all alone, and she couldn’t find anybody else around. Not even her own father was there. This...worried her, but she convinced herself to stay calm. After all, her best friend could find her, and bring her back to safety! And she could tell him how much she loved him, and he’d say the same, and then they could really, truly live happily ever after!

He appeared. But he was not happy.

_ “Circi,”  _ he quietly asked,  _ “whatever could you be doing?” _ This was a strange sort of tone, she wondered. It was only a few moments after he said those words when she noticed the darkening shadow behind him, and how it seemed even more darker than when she saw him in a shade. She came to her own conclusion he was holding that book (which was obviously true), which was most likely manipulating him! Perhaps that tome had a mind of its own?

“Wilfre? Don’t tell me you’re using that book again!”

No response. She didn’t know what to do. Why did he ask her that? She wasn’t doing anything. Was he seeing something she didn’t? Was he seeing things? Was he losing his mind? Was he—

_ “They’re here.” _

The bright, sunny, world was suddenly covered in darkness. Glittering eyes lit up the darkened sky, their minds full of malicious intent. She could feel the scribbles in his book coming alive, looking for a new soul to devour. The ground became slippery with smog, and she couldn’t help but slip and fall into the chaos. No matter how hard she struggled, she knew she couldn’t escape the nightmare that had its own potential of becoming a sick prediction for their fates. But she knew, deep down, she couldn’t let that happen.

“Wilfre! Wilfre, speak to me!” she cried out, trying not to swallow the incoming smoke of gloominess, preparing itself to surround every crevice of her body and mind. “I know this isn’t what you want! I don’t want this either!”

She thought she could hear him reply, but she could only hear a faint mumble. Perhaps he was surrounded by darkness as well? She knew he wasn’t the threat—only a victim, another pawn of the shadows’ sick game of chess. It was madness; she hated that word, but there was no other name for it. And she couldn’t let that happen. Once she found a way to end the nightmare’s cruel reign, they could finally get their happy ending. And if she failed, well, she just had to try again.

_ “Really?” _

And, like a wish came true, he appeared once more. He looked sick, his body trembling, his ears twitching, his expression full of regret and uncertainty. It looked like the book he was holding would drop at any moment, yet at the same time he seemed to be grasping it with such force that it appeared to be glued to his palm. He tried to take a step back while looking into her eyes with precision: which, in turn conflicted with his desire to turn back and run. She knew one thing was certain: he didn’t want this—not at all.

“You...agree with me, right? You don’t like it when that book messes with your mind.” she told him, trying her hardest not to slip. He nodded; but his expression remained uncertain. Was he conflicted? Did he not know if he should agree or disagree? Would he act as if nothing was wrong? Some speculations were more out there than others, but it never hurt to try. She just had to wait for his response, and she’d exactly know how to help him.

_ “Are you talking about this book?” _

He showed the book to her. And then, she realized something: it wasn’t an ordinary book. It was a very, very special journal. One which read the words inscribed on it with cuts and the faint sighting of red— _ “Wilfre”.  _ His very own journal, one that no matter how hard he tried, would twist his works of art into monsters in the making. They were shadows, manifestations of the pain he felt in his mind, what felt like years of suppressed agony—that would soon become suppressed no more. And, for once, she realized things were becoming  _ too _ extraordinary. So, what did she do?

She fought back.

She cried out for him to slam the book down and to throw it into the darkness, never to be seen again. She did this over, and over, and over again, to seemingly no avail. All he did was show her the journal, his expression changing to that of empty confusion. He didn’t understand, did he? Was he truly convinced there was nothing wrong with it? Had her attempts at helping him been in vain? He likely still remembered the promise she made to him. Did he just decide to throw that away, like a useless scribble?  _ Was  _ she useless? It was only a matter of time before his cutthroat words would break the emptiness made from her agonized sobs—and what a matter it was.

_ “Believe me, I understand your sadness. If only I could comfort you.” _

A strange smile appeared on his face. Her tears seemed to evaporate immediately, becoming one with the endless darkness. The glittering lights of the shadows peered into her friend, who didn’t seem to mind the looks. In fact, he seemed to embrace them.

_ “But it’s far too late for me to do that. Not when the darkness has consumed me, after all.” _

She knew what that meant. And when the shadows finally took their chance to devour him in their twisted sense of beauty, she knew she couldn’t do anything about it. Her eyes closed in a state of panic, slipping once more into the smoggy abyss. Endless thoughts seemed to cloud her mind, but only a single sentence remained clear.

**_“We shall meet again, my Circi.”_ **

_ “NO!” _

She woke up to faint lavender skies. Blinking once, twice, she realized she was truly home.  _ Just a nightmare,  _ she thought. And yet she noticed the shadow beside her growing darker, gradually covering the entire space itself was contained in. In this moment, there was a state of realization.

_ This isn’t over, isn’t it? _

  
  
  
  
  
  



	5. Chapter 4: A Peculiar Invitation—Into Darkness

_ Save him. You have to. _

For a brief moment, she felt confined to her room. She wasn’t necessarily claustrophobic, but even the simplest thought of staying here sent her into a panic. She had to find him before it was too late. As long as he didn’t turn into some sort of shadow demon by then, everything would be fine. That’s what happy endings were, right? And she wasn’t going to let this happy ending be nothing more than a worthless bygone. She  _ would  _ save him.  _ No matter what. _

“H-Hello? Is that you?”

But it turned out she didn’t even need to move before she managed to find him. Her own best friend was there, still holding the journal, even though by now it looked badly affected with wear and tear. He wasn’t looking so hot himself, parts of his body fading to black on occasion as he was surrounded with a smoky field, looking frightened, yet also...accepting. Accepting what? Was her bad dream about to come true? If so, the happy ending was over before it even began. Both of them would be done for.  _ And she didn’t want that to happen. _

“Wilfre...please,” she meekly cried out, “throw that book away. You don’t need it.” Did she think it would convince him? At this point, most likely not—but it wouldn’t hurt to try. Soon after, she stood up, her expression still remaining a mix of concern and faint hope. Would hope even be enough in this situation?

“I can’t.”

It wouldn’t.

“Wilfre, what are you talking about? It’s...It’s not like that journal’s glued to your hand or anything!” she told him, earning only an exasperated sigh in response.

“Look, Circi. It’s not that easy.” As soon as he said those words, the dark smoke of nothingness only grew more intense. She knew she couldn’t do anything to stop the smoke. All she could do was watch...and, well, try to beg for him to come back to his senses. If even  _ trying _ would do anything. At this point, listening to everything he wanted to say would be the best thing to do...hopefully.

“I have tried multiple times to resist the shadows’ influence. Those attempts have all ended in failure. What point is there in trying again?”

“But I  _ know _ you’ll break free eventually! Remember that promise we made? That I’d help you, no matter what?” She knew she was full of despair, but that didn’t mean he had to. But that statement only made the smoke grow darker still, soon encompassing the entire room.

“Circi...some problems can’t be helped.”

No.  _ No.  _ She had enough of this. There was no way something like this could happen to  _ her _ own friend. Disregarding the promise they made? He would never! And, darkness or not, she was going to teach him a lesson about disregarding promises.

“So  _ what!? _ It doesn’t matter! I’m not going back on my promise, and neither should you. Do you get what I’m saying? I. Will.  _ HE—” _

The shadows were more suffocating than she thought. She was completely immobile, all her visible lines of movement being locked by darkness. The only thing she could see was her own friend, his body being covered even more by the shadows. One part of him looked fearful—the other, apathetic. He was conflicted as always, but she still knew that to both of them...this would be an uphill battle.

“You should be a better listener. I don’t suppose  _ you _ should be the one to get what I’m saying, right? It can’t be helped—and it’s as simple as that.” His tone was slowly turning into poison, becoming more and more of a discomfort. She hated it: but at the same time, she needed to hear it more.

“I...I know t-that’s not really y-you...that d-damned journal is m-manipulating...you…” is all she could muster, choking on the shadow’s unrelenting grasp. She briefly wondered if this was a dream in a dream, or perhaps her punishment for being so  _ stupid _ to think she could convince him different. Oh, well. No time for an inner analysis of the mind when a soon-to-be shadow demon’s about to rip you a new one.

But he didn’t.

He just...stood there. She noticed he wasn’t covered entirely in the shadows _ — _ yet. His partial expression of fear suddenly turned to calmness, and he seemed to be staring at some things that, in her view, were completely obscured by nonsensical shadows. Was he seeing things? Had he finally gone mad? And, most importantly...had she failed?

“P-Please...Wilfre, I k-know you wouldn’t...w-want this to h-happen…”

There was no response. For what seemed like an eternity, there was nothing more, and nothing less, than the endless void of silence.

Something wasn’t right.

Soon enough, he started to emit a vibrant, discordant noise that sounded like a mix of a pained screech and the crushing of liquids (whatever that meant), as he could do nothing but desperately try to block the sounds coming everywhere at once, to no avail. Almost as if on cue, she started to scream as well, nearly managing to break free from the shadowy chains containing her body. The smoke morphed itself into claws, drawing themselves to the screeching boy inch by inch.

_ “Circi, please…! You’re right—I didn’t want this to happen! Please, help…!” _

She wanted to help, but she knew she couldn’t. No matter how much her agonized cries reached him, she knew there was nothing she could do to save them. She wasn’t a hero _ — _ instead, nothing more than a damsel in distress, always crying out for the true hero to save her and give her the happy ending she wanted _ — _ but deserved? It was a hard pill to swallow, but she always knew she had to take her medicine.

“Wilfre... 

  
  


“...I’m so, so, sorry.”

The claws engulfed him.

She cried for him one last time.

The smoke became blinding.

Static screeching filled the air.

And then there was silence.

From that silence, she knew her friend was no more…

  
  


**_“...than a mere shadow of his former self.”_ **

  
  
  
  
  



End file.
